Marching On
by therentyoupay
Summary: ON-GOING.  Collection of unrelated drabbles, one-shots, and ficlets.  Multiple, various pairings.
1. Icha Icha, NaruSaku, Humor, K

**Disclaimer:** I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this collection. Kudos to Masashi Kishimoto, indeed.

**Author's Notes:** Gosh, too many fandoms and too many characters and ships and pairings and-_yes_... yes, I've made another ficlet collection.

Naruto fandom. Various pairings. Here we go.

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><p><strong>Pairing: <strong>Naruto/Sakura**  
>Prompt: <strong>reconnaissance**  
>Word Count: <strong>250  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG

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><p><strong><em>Icha Icha<em>**

"Um, Sakura?"

"Not now—I told you we're _late!_"

"But—"

"Whatever it is, Naruto, it can wait. I still have to get ready!"

"But _Sakura-chan_—"

"What, Naruto, _what?_ I swear, if Tsunade gives me any trouble because of you, I'm going to—"

"Why do you have… this?"

Sakura blinked twice, watching blankly as Naruto delicately pinched the corner of a dangling _Icha Icha Paradise_ as if he were afraid that it might actually be a lethal ninja using some kind of transformation jutsu…. Not to mention he was staring at her, curiously fascinated, with one of his _oh, this is too good to be true_ looks that usually ended with him getting punched.

Which just might happen again, if he weren't careful.

"Please, Naruto, we're going to be late for _that_? A patient left that awful thing behind the other day, and I'm in the midst of trying to return it to him. Now, if that's _all_, you should be taking your leave." With a small yelp, Naruto let the book tumble to the floor, and was promptly pushed out into the street. "Just wait there! I'll be done in just a minute."

Once she was certain that he was safely distracted by some various outside stimuli or other (namely, the neighbor's lawn decorations), Sakura snuck a quick reconnaissance glance about her, and then crouched to retrieve the book.

Satisfied that the edges weren't irrevocably bent, Sakura slipped the novel back under her mattress, where it belonged.


	2. Avenger, SasuSaku, Angst, T

**Pairing: **Sasuke/Sakura**  
>Prompt: <strong>purple  
><strong>Genre:<strong> angst**  
>Word Count: <strong>150  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> Sasuke's lines taken from the English translation of the anime.

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><p><strong>Avenger<strong>_  
>Because how can one avenge a precious person when the enemy is oneself?<em>

He was thirteen-years-old again, and the blackness was overriding his senses. He pulled himself up away from the ground, eyes burning with the sharingan, skin screaming as the purple flames of this dark, foreign chakra swirled about him.

"Sakura," he said, low, harsh and dangerous. "Who did that to you?

But suddenly, he was no longer thirteen. His eyes were bleeding, robes billowing, and there was a katana in his hand, swathed in lightening, and Sakura had transformed from a bloodied, beaten mess of a child to a bloodied, broken shell of a woman.

He heard his voice, bewildered and hollow, tainted with desperation and urgency to destroy, to maim, to _avenge_as he repeated the question.

_Sakura, say it! Who the hell hurt you?_

She looked through him, seeing yet unseeing his gaze, and the tragedy of her hollow eyes shot through him, and spoke for her.

_You did_.


	3. Lost in Translation, SasuSaku, Humor, T

**Pairing: **Sasuke/Sakura, implied one-sided Naruto/Sakura, implied Mystery!/Sakura**  
>Prompt: <strong>biter  
><strong>Genre:<strong> humor/romance**  
>Word Count: <strong>1,100  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> Written because I needed a break from schoolwork. :P Please tell me if you get what actually happened, ha. My brain is fried.

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><p><strong>Lost in Translation<strong>

"Say, Ino, have you seen Sakura-chan around?" Naruto's eyes narrowed at the empty space beside the oncoming blonde, and a pout formed on his lips as he sat alongside a disgruntled Sasuke and many empty seats. "She was supposed to meet us here for lunch."

"Ha!" her soft voice released a bark of laughter. Her eyes were positively agleam with mischievous delight, but Naruto didn't see what was so funny. "Don't bother waiting for her," she cautioned, and the lilt in her voice immediately created a curious slant in Narutos' brow.

Ino was _up_ to something.

"I think she's a little, ah… _preoccupied_ at the moment."

Naruto's face scrunched in dissatisfaction. "What's _that _supposed to mean?"

"Don't listen to her petty gossip, fool," came the deep, impatient voice to his right.

Ino reared back in indignation as Naruto turned on Sasuke with, "Whatever, bastard—we can't eat without Sakura-chan!"

"She'll come, or she won't, moron. Just order your food and be quiet."

He mustered another quick glare at the shinobi, and then turned back to a not-so-subtly fuming Ino. "So, where is she?"

"Why should I tell you two?" Ino sniped. "It's not as if either of you would actually _like_ to know."

Naruto squinted at her. Was she crazy? Did she forget who he was? Didn't she know what the hell Sakura-chan meant to him? To the both of them?

Not that the teme was going to admit their slowly progressing amends anytime soon. But whatever, Naruto was working on that.

"Come on, Ino! Just let us know how much longer we're going to have to wait for her to show up."

And to Naruto's surprise, Ino's features dropped the tinge of annoyance and were replaced with thoughtful calculation. Naruto watched as the slender blonde silently settled on her conclusion before quirking a brow and releasing a soft laugh; he immediately got the feeling that maybe it was _Sakura-chan_ that was up to something instead, but quelled it.

"You know what? Maybe it'd be better if you were to reschedule. I'm not so sure you'll be seeing her today."

"But—"

"Drop it, Naruto," said the dark figure. He had already ordered his dish and was about to help himself to the first bite. "It's not worth it."

Translation: _She__'__s __not__ worth __it_.

Naruto knew that Sasuke—through all of the Uchiha's immensely-convoluted emotional misunderstandings and his lost life lessons on how _not_ to get pummeled by angry females—had meant his words to mean: _Ino__'__s__ aimless __taunts __are __not __worth __the __aggravation, __now __shut __up __and __let __me__ eat __in __peace, __moron_. The blonde in question, however, had seemingly misinterpreted the raven-haired heart-breaker's blunt declaration to mean: _None__ of __you, __and __especially __not __a__ certain, __annoying, __pink-haired __kunoichi, __is__ worth __my __time __or __space._

Subsequently, this was possibly the worst thing that could have been said at all, for Ino was no longer indignant over her own blows; she was irate on behalf of Sakura. Naruto sensed an incoming wave of female-solidarity-fueled violence rushing his way, and in his haste to make peace, he said the first thing that came to his mind.

"Hey now, Ino," he said with a placating hand. "You know the bastard didn't mean that! Even after all of those days going bat-shit crazy, his bite isn't nearly as bad as his bark." Sasuke sent a death glare that went ignored, and Naruto aimlessly rambled on. "It's just like the rest of us! I'm much more bark than I am bite, too, and just think about Sakura; she can definitely hold her own with both the bark and the bite, _you__ know_?"

Translation: _Just __shut __up, __Ino, __shut __up! __You__'__re __going __to __make __him __start __moping__ again, __and __I __have __been__ working __too __damn __hard __to__ get __him __out __of __that __stupid __brooding __rut __that __he__'__s __been__ in __ever __since __he __got __back! __He__'__s __even __paying __a __little __more __attention __to __Sakura-chan __now,__and__ if __you __don__'__t __stop__ talking, __you__'__re__ just__ going __to__ mess __everything__—_

"Well," Ino whispered conspiratorially, as a devilish thought flickered in her eyes and a saccharine smile slowly spread over her lips. Somehow, Naruto got the feeling that she hadn't caught onto his telepathic message _at__ all_. "It's never exactly been a secret that Sakura's been into that sort of thing… but at least, you can now rest assured that we have _testimonial_ confirmation; Sakura-chan is, indeed, more of a biter."

A pause.

"But you're right, she's not one to complain about _barking _either_," _she added.

"We're… We're not talking about the same thing, are we?" Naruto asked suspiciously, and he could feel his teammate tense marginally behind him at the counter. Strange.

"Well, there's a reason why I said you didn't really want to know what she was up to today," she supplied cheerfully, her eyes slanting with the glint of someone who took delight in oncoming social chaos.

"Meaning…?"

"Well," she sighed, already disengaging herself from the conversation. "I'm sure you'll have no problem discussing this with her later; I, however, should be heading out." And with that, she smoothly made her way down the street.

"Hey—wait! Ino, you can't just leave us like that! What are you talking about?" he shouted after her, alarming several passersby. "What am I even supposed to do with information like that?"

Ino paused and inclined her head in Naruto's direction to give him just a glimpse of a satisfied, taunting grin, before disappearing around a corner with only the following clue:

"Just ask Kiba!"

Naruto vaguely heard the snapping sound of ruined chopsticks from behind.

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.

.

"Was that _really_ necessary?"

"Don't look at me, Sakura-chan!" Naruto whined. "It wasn't my idea!"

"What were you even thinking?" asked the rosette as she patched up the boys' remaining bite wounds. "Honestly, I think you've drastically hindered the puppies' social development by terrifying them so thoroughly. Akamaru and his mate will never trust us again! _What_ did you think I was doing that you had to burst into the birthing room so violently for?"

Sasuke kept his gaze on the wall. "I don't like dogs."

"Apparently," she deadpanned. He glared. "One thing's for sure: the Inuzuka family is not going to let us anywhere near their nin-dogs anytime soon. I might as well embrace my original love of cats."

Sasuke's lips twitched, but the movement was so marginal that Naruto nearly missed it. Chin high, Sasuke casually remarked:

"Cats are preferable."

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"What about foxes?"

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"Shut up, dobe."

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><p><strong>AN:** Oh, Ino, you trickster.


	4. Mission Accomplished, SasuSaku, Humor, T

**Pairing:** Sasuke/Sakura**  
>Prompt:<strong> "his naughty grocery list"  
><strong>Genre:<strong> humor/romance**  
>Universe:<strong> Post-Canon**  
>Word<strong>**Count: **570  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T**  
>Warnings:<strong> Slight crack. ('Tis the season, maybe?)  
><strong>Author's<strong>** Notes:** _11/13/11_. Written as a gift!fic for **cutecrazyice** on LiveJournal.

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><p><strong>Mission: <em><span>Accomplished<span>_**

"Well," Sakura huffed, and though she tried to veil the hurt in her eyes from him, it was no use. "If _that__'__s_ how you feel."

For the record?

That wasn't how he felt.

But as not a single one of Sasuke's mentors had managed to cultivate the skill of emotional expression (Fugaku, Itachi, Kakashi, Orochimaru, Kabuto, Madara—_do__ you __see __the __pattern?),_ a very confused Sasuke was left standing at the mouth of Aisle 9 with a scowl on his face and a sack of potatoes in hand.

Sakura continued browsing through the shelves—_a__ sham_—through the curtain of her hair—_a__ shield_—and, without sparing him a glance, she reached out: "Pass me the list, then. The sooner we finish, the sooner you can go home."

What still surprised him was that he didn't necessarily care about leaving just yet. What still surprised him _more_ was the way this attempt at indifference towards him finally sounded… real? Slightly stunned, he passed off the folded grocery list with involuntarily feigned disinterest.

Sasuke tried to think of a way to salvage the mission—_Stop __trying __to__ turn__ everything __in__ life __into__ a __mission,__ bastard! __Just __ask __her __out, __dammit! _Naruto's irritating voice echoed in his ears—when Sakura's gasp disrupted his strategizing. "Sasuke-kun," she began, and he felt pathetic to realize how much he had been hoping she wouldn't suddenly drop the suffix. But her voice was baffled. "Are you sure all of this is yours?"

He hoped she noticed how his fingertips lingered a fraction of a second longer than necessary against her own as he retrieved the slip of paper—_pathetic, __pathetic, __pathetic_—and when he read over the list, nothing seemed amiss.

_Groceries:_  
>- Tomatoes<br>- Potatoes  
>- Rice<br>- Udon

"Aa," he glanced upward, quirking a solitary brow. "Why wouldn't it be?"

He wasn't expecting her astonishment, and he certainly wasn't expecting her blush. "Sa-Sasuke-kun," she repeated with wide eyes and surprise. But a moment later, a small smile graced her lips and she ducked her head, shyly placing a short strand of hair behind her ear. "I suppose—I'll guess just leave you to the rest then, and meet you outside."

As she quickly made her way to the cashier with her basket containing all of the items on his list, Sasuke was puzzled. The answer to this mystery, however, was hidden on the back. Copied perfectly in his fine, elegant script, was another list that Sasuke never wrote.

_Night with Sakura:_  
>- Whipped Cream<br>- Chocolate Syrup  
>- Strawberries<br>- Sake

And last but certainly not least, as Sasuke discovered with a raging blush of his own, was an item underlined twice: - Contraception.

_Naruto will die._

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Some hours later, as streams of _mission:__ accomplished,__ accomplished,__ accomplished_ rang through Sasuke's head, he decided that perhaps it was really all for the best.

"It seems that you're already out of groceries," Sakura observed, her eyes glinting.

Sasuke surveyed the exhausted supplies with a smirk. "Aa."

And he decided he just might let Naruto live after all.

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For now.

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><p><strong>End<strong>** Note:** Want a gift!fic, too? Head over to my LiveJournal at **http: ******[slash]******** [slash]****** the rent you pay ****[dot] ****livejournal**** [dot] ****com** to leave a prompt on my Holiday Requests post. I'm going to need some quick writing inspiration as the semester comes to a close (and the holiday season nears!), so please feel free to leave as many as you would like. The page shouldn't be too hard to find as it's the most recent non-friends-locked entry!


	5. Rules of the Game, NaruSaku, Unreq, T

**Pairing:** Sasuke/Sakura, Naruto/Sakura**  
>Prompt:<strong> contests  
><strong>Genre:<strong> drama/angst/romance**  
>Word <strong>**Count: **1,089  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T**  
>Warnings:<strong> Unrequited love.  
><strong>Author's<strong>** Notes:** _12/31/11_. Written as a gift!fic for **mylasia** on LiveJournal. This was also partially inspired by the format of **asteriskjam**'s fic called "Maybe Next Year." Go read it! Also, "Better Days" by the Goo Goo Dolls was on repeat when I wrote this.

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><p><strong>The Rules of the Game<strong>

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He's five and already annoyed with the loudmouth kid from the other side of town. Sasuke doesn't care what the bright orange kid has to say or how he claims the ability to best anyone in anything because he knows that Itachi-nii-san is better than everyone at _everything_. He also doesn't really understand why the girls in his class act they way they do, or why there always seems to be a race to be his partner in shuriken practice, but Itachi just pokes his forehead when he asks, so he stops wondering aloud. The annoying kid named Naruto is always talking as if he knows something Sasuke doesn't—_as if he's already won something_—but Sasuke watches him fall day after day after day, and knows that no kid who so blatantly refuses to play by the rules of any game will ever win anything of real worth.

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He's twelve and already lost and spiraling toward a dark path that he was never meant to travel. He doesn't have time for childish games or foolish competitions with dead last (or so he says), but anything that can be made into training is at least worth a second glance. He doesn't particularly care for the way their fragile teammate dotes over him with unwanted affection, but if he can privately hold it over the the idiot's head, then at least there's _something_ to gained from all of her trouble.

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He's fifteen and numb, but that can't be true because he's bursting at the seams with hatred and _loathing_ and an indescribable fury that burns him to the core. The teammates have become hopeless pursuers, the competitions have become battles, and the world has become his enemy. He fights because there's only one thing left to fight for, and even as he arms himself against the others—Kabuto, Orochimaru, an endless stream of Sound ninja to serve as his training pawns, Naruto,_ all of them—_there is only one enemy that truly matters, and there is no contest as to what is at the forefront—_or at the recesses_—of Sasuke's mind.

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He's eighteen and _now_ he is numb because the battles have become a war, all the rules of the game have changed, and somehow, after everything, he has come full circle without ever really going anywhere. But at least now he has the right—the privilege, the _luxury_, they tell him—to take satisfaction in the smaller things in a life post-revenge, post-rehabilitation... such as flaunting the fact that even in the tirelessly long probation period after his return, he was still able to make it to chuunin _and_ jounin status before dead last. His teammates have forgiven him, but there is still tension; he does not let it concern him because if there is one thing he's learned, it's—_nothing_—that they will always be waiting for him.

The idiot challenges him to reach ANBU before he does, and since he is still not the kind of man to laugh easily, he accepts the proposition with a dark smirk and a knowing taunt. The girl he'd left alone on a bench in the dark is now a woman, and although he remembers—_has tried to ignore how he's clung to_—the words she's declared to him again and again as he's fallen over precipice after precipice, he has kept the words buried and hidden for far too long. He is still not the kind of man who trusts easily—_Naruto has always won that trophy blindly_—so he does not speak of them to her. In the end, even amidst all of the battles and losses and startling realizations that he is at war—_with himself_—and alive yet not living, Sasuke wonders how it came to be that, after everything, he still cannot—_was never meant to_—win.

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He's twenty-one and life has... settled into routine. The war is over, the new Hokage has risen, and the Uchiha honor has been restored. Vengeance has been wrought, reconstruction has begun, and a new era is on the horizon. The memories of quests that Sasuke has devoted his entire life to have faded to a dull white noise. Even with Naruto's massive load of administrative duties, the candle of competitive spirit is still there... though the maturity that's come with his position of power has softened the flame. Sasuke never once felt the desire to become Hokage, but now that Naruto has everything he's ever wanted—Team 7 together, the title of Hokage, _world peace and all that_—Sasuke supposes that he has also received more than he's ever hoped—vengeance, restored honor, a second chance.

Sleep still does not come easy, but at least now it offers some reprieve when it comes. The ANBU missions are long, hard, bloody, _hollow_ victories, but they give Sasuke something to keep aiming for and achieving while he works out the next steps to take in life. He is aware that in spite of his past transgressions against the village, there are still a few brave hopefuls who aspire—who'd kill—to bear the next child of the sharingan, and he further knows that he will have no one but _her_. He knows the time has come to stow away his mask, to wash the blood from underneath his nails, and to ask Sakura—his teammate, his admirer, his _believer—_to finally—

—and then he is watching from afar in a room crowded with people who have gathered together to celebrate the new year. His mask falters as Naruto boisterously holds up Sakura's delicate hand for the cheering throng of civilians and ninja to see as he proudly displays the ring on her finger, and Sasuke wonders _how_ could he have ever been stupid enough to—to leave, to let himself live, to return, to trust, to hope—to think that what he felt _before_ could be numb?

As he sees the gleam of Sakura's smile as she gazes up at their teammate, he wonders... Perhaps if he'd acknowledged that there was still _one more contest_ to be won against Naruto, if he'd held his guard, if he'd seen that there was a chance yet that dead last could still find a way to come in first_... _he could have won.

As his fist collides with another tree, barreling through trunk after trunk as the distant sounds of celebration ring in his ears, it occurs to Sasuke that perhaps this was the only contest that had ever really mattered. The one that he could have won all along.

If he'd only been taught the rules.

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_And you ask me what I want this year_  
><em> And I try to make this kind and clear<em>

_ Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days_

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_.  
><em>


	6. You Might Call it Regret, SasuSaku, T

**Pairing:** Sasuke/Sakura**  
>Prompt:<strong> candy  
><strong>Genre:<strong> drama/self-reflection/romance**  
>Word Count: <strong>822  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Author's<strong> **Notes:** _2/3/12._ Written as a gift!fic for **unicorn_paige** on LiveJournal. I've been playing with em dashes lately. :P I'm sorry if these are getting old, but I'm still experimenting! I'm also not used to writing in present tense, so this was interesting.

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><p><strong>You Might Call it Regret<strong>

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.

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"Of course it is."

Sasuke immediately regrets even thinking the words, because this is not the first time—nor the second, nor the tenth—that he has in some way slipped.

_(And it wouldn't be the last.)_

His tongue is sharp with the urge to prove Naruto wrong, but he's wary of the implications behind the argument, so he clenches his jaw and schools his features, combating dead last's inherent stubbornness with his own aloofness in all of the old ways that fill his gut with a disorienting sense of bitter resentment and warm familiarity. And then dead last has a knowing look in his eye that all at once begs Sasuke to damage something _and_ still manages to catapult him nearly a decade behind, into a past filled with stupid laughter and desperate wonder. The muscles beneath Sasuke's skin tighten in expectation, but yet another change has made itself apparent, because the idiot seems to have learned something mildly akin to the art of judiciousness during the years of their team's separation, and Naruto merely looks away with only a glint of a smile.

_(But this isn't the change that plagues him most.)_

A memory of friendship had halted him, a promise of second chances had lured him, and since then the misjudgments and missteps—some minor in scope, all egregious in their ramifications—have only continued to pile on, all of which have brought him to this moment: discernible feeling has once again threaded itself into his voice, and this, he knows, can only be the beginning of the end.

_(An end for the life of retribution he had envisioned for himself, based on his belief in strength found in solitude?)_

_(Or is it finally the end of an everlasting facade?)_

"Well," Naruto continues slowly, with that irritating new found cautiousness. "Dango _used_ to be her favorite... when she was younger. But Sakura's grown more fond of spicy stuff since then."

There is another moment of disquiet as this seemingly insignificant—_trivial, useless, irrelevant_—information registers with him, and suddenly Naruto plasters on a smile bright enough to blind and almost wide enough to fool.

"But don't worry! Spicy, sweet... she'll love whatever we get her—no matter how her tastes change, she's still the sweetest thing of all!"

Naruto's boisterous laugh at his own horrid joke is jarring enough as it is, but in the tension they'd created amidst the surrounding shelves of the market, even as the heaviness of the air evaporates into a duller weight, the sound is all the more grating. Yet Sasuke, left standing alone and staring into the empty air of an inconspicuous grocery treats aisle, is not as perturbed by the sound as he should be; instead, he is much more focused on the dango shop across the street, and the inexplicable feeling of wrongness settling at his core. He would not call it emptiness, would never label it fear, and so the root cause of the desperation Sasuke feels while making his small purchase of sweets—_memories_—is not explored.

_(You might call it regret.)_

Later, when Sakura opens Naruto's gift, there is such genuine pleasure in her eyes at the sight of her crudely written birthday card and bag of spicy treats that Sasuke's grip nearly crushes his own package, which is hidden beneath the fabric of his jacket. Sasuke considers stealthily discarding the dreadful thing at the first opportunity, but Naruto robs him of the chance before he even finishes the thought.

"Hey, bastard! Where's yours?"

When Sakura realizes that Sasuke has bothered to bring her anything at all, the light of delighted surprise that warms her face is enough to endow Sasuke the courage to slip the finely wrapped package from his sleeve. The following silence is painful in its awkwardness, and it's all the willpower Sasuke has to not snatch it back out from her line of sight, and then:

"You remembered," she whispers, and she reaches for the small package of sweets between them. There are no further words of clarification on his part and no additional assurances from Sakura of her satisfaction, but the appreciation shines in her eyes and her happiness over the act of recognition flows into the curve of her lips as she offers him a sincere bow of thanks... as well as a familiar smile he is startled to realize that he's missed.

Sasuke does not know what to say, does not have the words to express this feeling of relief, but as he has already vowed twice today to desist from voicing any and all sentiments that would imply a sense of _care_, he is even less inclined to try.

Instead, at least for now, he is content to sit with the fact that even amidst all of the changes and losses and irreversible regrets, there are still some things—_some certain things about some certain precious people_—that have not changed.

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_(This, you might call hope.)_

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_.  
><em>


	7. x marks the spot, KakaSaku, Angst, T

**Disclaimer:** I don't own!  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Implied unrequited!KakaSaku, implied!SasuSaku  
><strong>Genre:<strong> Angst  
><strong><em>100moods<em>**** Writing Challenge Prompt:** #016. _cold_  
><strong>Word Count: <strong>394  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13  
><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> _12/9/13_. So, fun fact: I actually posted this little drabble a long, long time ago... under a different penname. :P Sometime back in September, I made a brand new tumblr account on a whim and posted fic, just for the hell of it. I decided I didn't really need it anymore, and I'm pretty serious about organization, so I decided to post it here, after all...

Enjoy!

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><p><strong>x marks the spot<strong>

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><p>He stares at the scar tattooed over her chest, worn and faded smooth with time. Thin lines still jagged, torn with something dull—something not intended to cut, but rip; made by a clumsy hand used to precision, impulsive, but perhaps not without care. A criss-cross reminder over her beating heart. Not a promise, but a claim.<p>

It is the only scar she wears.

Sakura pulls the cover of her open vest more cleanly over her chest, shielding it from his piercing eye. She does not look at him, but Kakashi knows. He knows enough.

"Has Naruto seen that?"

She stares at the memorial stone in silence, and he waits for an answer. The grounds are empty, save for the morning autumn chill, and he wonders who it is that she's come to visit, the living or the dead or the someones somewhere in between.

"No," she says, at length. _Such a difference_, this Sakura. This old, this young, tired Sakura. "It would only upset him. And even at its core, it doesn't mean what he'd hope it to mean."

_Which is? _He doesn't ask, but she seems to hear him, anyway.

Her voice a gentle breath on the breeze when she sighs and says, "Sasuke isn't coming back."

Kakashi stares at the spot where her heart should be, through the deep maroon of her vest in the early morning fog, to where the scar rests beneath the mesh shirt, to where it marks what's left of her beating heart. _X marks the spot_.

"Your scar says differently," he says, as the morning chill seeps into his bones. _And why should he bother now?_ Kakashi thinks, watching the dull light in the eyes of his once-shining student. _After so many wasted years?_

"What's left of him, maybe," Sakura concedes, voice soft, eyes hard as stone. "To try to collect what's his."

Kakashi stands before the memorial stone, but for once his gaze does not rest on the names inscribed there; instead they rest on a pair of eyes that have dulled and have faded, in all the shades of jade.

"Is it, still?" he asks. "His?"

And when the sun crests over the line of bright trees, the reds and oranges of a dying autumn in Fire Country, he is still waiting for an answer.


End file.
